


Winter Wonderland

by Kataury



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21918691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kataury/pseuds/Kataury
Summary: Ike and Soren decide to shake up their day with a little winter adventure.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Winter Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akaihoshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaihoshi/gifts).



> For the Ike/Soren Secret Santa Exchange I present to you this fluff!

Once a week, if not every other day, Ike and Soren carried out a private ritual of hiking up the large hill with a lone sycamore tree about a mile away from Greil’s Retreat. It was a secret spot with a that provided an excellent vantage point of the valley below, where anyone standing at its peak could see the town several miles to the east and the numerous farmlands and orchards surrounding it. If one looked especially closely at the escarpments just to the south, he might catch a glimpse of the retreat’s brown roof peaking over the dense copse of trees. It was a beautiful view of what both had called home for so long. Early morning springs and warm summer evenings were spent on this hill, sometimes for Soren to teach Ike what he had learned about different geographical tactics under the shade of the tree’s branches, other times to simply lay within the tall grass and name constellations. The cold winter days did nothing to dissuade the two of their afternoon climb as Ike lead his companion up the mountain. 

As the young commander reached the crest of the hill he glanced over his shoulder to ensure his companion was following. Soren always appeared especially beautiful in Winter. Despite the gloominess and short days, there was an ethereal beauty that captivated the warrior whenever he saw the pale mage surrounded by the winter landscape. The smaller man gracefully followed Ike’s footsteps in the snow, the hem of his thick dark cloak lightly brushing the drifts of snow aside to be tossed back into the swirling winds and beyond. His hood had been blown back to expose his long dark hair lovingly caressed by a cool breeze, gently carrying his mane towards the East in rippling waves of black. 

He didn’t realize he was staring until claret eyes rose to meet Ike’s gaze. “Something wrong?” the mage asked with a small tilt of his head. 

Ike shook his head. “Just enjoying the view,” he smiled as he waited for Soren to join him, and what a view it was. Untouched snow blanketed branches and soil in the white dress of winter, spreading as far as they could see across the plains and beyond to the distant peaks of the mountains that divided Crimea from Gallia. Silence had descended upon the world with the arrival of the cold winds. Birdsong was muted, wolves and predators retreated to long slumbers, and even the flora descended into a long silence, waiting in anticipation for Spring. The air tasted of ice, and the skin grew numb to the cold spells of the season, but none of it was strong enough to keep the two from standing at the top of their quiet world. 

Unfortunately, Ike was oblivious to the winter fantasy, eyes still locked on the man at his side. Thick robes and heavy snow boots to shelter a lithe body from the cold, Soren’s presence was enough to warm every inch of Ike’s large frame. He stretched out his hand to tuck a wild black lock behind his ear. It snatched the mage’s eyes again, turning his head until it was gently cupped within a rough calloused hand. 

“You’re beautiful,” Ike murmured, his voice nearly drowned by the winter’s overwhelming silence. Soren’s pale face flushed under the praise and he turned away, embarrassed. 

“Are you going to tell me why you brought Gatrie’s breastplate all the way up here?” the mage asked to change the subject.

Ike glanced back at the hefty front plate he had strapped across his back like a shield. It was an old training breastplate that their comrade had beaten to bits. Dents, tears, and even hints of rust lined the old metal. But it was still sturdy enough for Ike’s plan. “Well, I just had an idea and wanted to see if you would try it with me,” he smiled, doing his best to hide the spark of mischief in his eyes. 

“Oh? And what idea was that?” Soren asked curiously as Ike unlatched the hunk of metal from his back. He dropped it into the snow on its front, leaving the interior portion angled upwards like a bowl. 

“It’s more like an experiment, I think,” Ike started, carefully sliding the plate forward with his foot until it was safely tucked into the root of the Sycamore tree. Soren watched carefully as Ike maneuvered himself into the plate with his legs criss-crossed. It was a tight fit for the 250 lb. fighter, and his cape snagged a bit on the edge of the plate. After more than a minute of struggle he finally released a sigh of satisfaction before turning to the mage. 

“Get in.” 

“What?” Soren blinked. 

“I said get in!” Ike gestured. 

“Ike, there’s no more room in your… breastplate,” the mage protested. 

“Come sit on my lap! We’ll both fit. It won’t work unless we both fit.” 

The mage shook his head and stepped closer to his friend. “I don’t think you realize that you’re already at maximum capacity, and if you end up falling down this hill in a breastplate I can only say I regret not bringing a healing staff with me-- Ike!” The warrior interrupted his companion’s criticisms with a sudden yank of his skinny arm. Soren tumbled into Ikes arms with his rump safely tucked into the hole of Ike’s crossed legs and his own lower appendages splayed out one side of the breastplate. 

Unfortunately, Ike’s force was enough to dislodge the two from the safety of the Sycamores roots, allowing their own weight and gravity to take over. Soren yelped in surprise, throwing his arms around the other’s neck in a desperate hold while the two swiftly accelerated down the steep slope. Ike whooped, taking control of their vehicle as they descended down the hill into the copse below. 

Down the pair went on their makeshift sled, boarding their way through powdery drifts that left them both with faces full of cold snow. Neither could resist bubbling laughter from mingling with their shouts of surprise as Ike barely veered away from a nest of brambles. Their speed kept increasing as their incline angled more vertically, and Ike’s instincts were the only thing that prevented their sled from fatally colliding with an oak tree. 

“Go left!” Soren barked, and Ike was quick to obey, leaning his mass to the side to avoid another incoming pine tree. Veering, left, then right, then right again, the two worked in perfect sync as they wove their way through the frosty woods. Both felt quite comfortable working together until they felt their sled slowing. 

“We need to go faster!” Ike insisted. 

“On it,” Soren replied, maneuvering himself into a better position on Ike’s lap before whipping out his tome. A fast and shaky chant started bubbling from his lips, gathering the dancing winter spirits around the two. 

“Oh, here we go,” Ike grinned. He wrapped his legs around Soren’s waist while his hands latched tightly onto the breastplate just as Soren finished his last verse of galdr. The mage’s hands threw back onto either side of Ike, angling his gathered wind spirits directly behind them and launching the sled to new speeds across the empty farmlands. Both couldn’t contain their excitement as they nearly flew across the country, shouting victoriously as the landscape whipped past them on either side. 

“Whoo hoo!” Ike hollered, feeling the freezing wind force tears from his face. His fist pumped in victory as they skimmed over the snow faster than a horse could carry them. Distantly, a herd of deer witnessed the pair traverse the plains with silent curiosity, following the bizarre mass of limbs work it’s way across the frozen ground. Unfortunately, their travel speed was faster than either could have expected, as both of them soon realized they were coming towards the large snowbank lining the river. 

“We need to brake!” Ike cried.   
“I don’t have a spell that will magically make us stop!”   
“We’re going to launch into the river!”   
“I can see that! This was a terrible idea and you should never have used a breastplate as a sled!”   
“It seemed like a good idea at the time I grabbed it!”

Soren couldn’t respond to his final exclamation as they both screamed at their impending doom. Their echoing yells broke the silent barrier of winter as their sled jumped the snow bank, sailing through the air above the river bend in what felt like slow motion. The dark waters rushed below a thin layer of ice just beneath their sled, promising a cold end to the two flying rascals. Seeing that they were about to fall short of safety, Ike kicked out from the plate at the last second, using it as a launchpad to push them the remaining two feet across the river to land safely in the powdery snow on the other side with a great  _ poof _ . 

Powdery snow kissed at their lashes, slowly falling onto the two survivors while Gatrie’s training plate was carried away by the rushing river. Both laid breathlessly on Ike’s sprawled cloak, allowing their adrenaline filled brains to process their near-death experience. Soren’s fall had cushioned by the man’s bulk, head on on Ike’s chest and disheveled hair tangled in his arms. He was the first to break the silence with a snort of laughter, face half buried into Ike’s chest as his shoulders shook. The larger man was quickly infected by his friend’s giggles, their laughs building until both were wheezing in each other’s arms. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget your face!” Ike gasped, wiping tears and snowflakes from his eyes. 

“I’m not the one who was screaming like a girl,” Soren retorted with a grin, gathering his hair back in a futile attempt to control his windblown tendrils. 

“I do wonder what it would be like if we used a more polished breastplate. You don’t think Gatrie would mind, do you?” Ike asked, lifting himself and Soren up into a sitting position, the mage still miraculously tucked between the warriors legs. 

“Depends. If he finds out what we’re using it for he might want the first go,” Soren smirked, leaning back until his head was tucked just beneath Soren’s chin. “Fortunately, I doubt he’ll make it all the way to the river.”

Ike chuckled and gently stroked his dark hair, “Fair enough. I don’t know what I’m going to tell him about his training gear though… that’s a pretty large chunk of metal we just lost.” 

“He’s thick-skinned enough to train without it for a while,” the mage dismisses with a wave, finally pulling away from his love to stand and brush off the clumps of snow hidden in the folds of his cloak and trousers. “It’s a shame though, I was thinking if we just changed our direction a bit we could have run along the riverside instead of to it.” 

“Does that mean you want to go again?” Ike asked, clambering to his feet with an eager look on his face. 

Soren glanced up to meet those deep blue eyes twinkling with excitement and his hair a bit more disheveled than usual. The mage lifted an intrigued eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, waiting for just a moment before lifting himself to his tiptoes so he could press his lips against Ike’s in a chaste kiss. 

“If you find us a better sled I bet I can make us go faster,” He smirked. 

Ike broke into a big smile that stretched from ear to ear, pulling Soren in for another, deeper, kiss. His tongue pressed into the warmth, lightly grazing his bottom lip before moving deeper. The smaller man released a breathy moan, responding in kind as his tongue pressed back, building their warmth into a spreading heat as Soren lightly nibbled at Ike’s lower lip. By the time the warrior finally pulled away he found Soren’s pale complexion broken by the flush of color, red eyes half-lidded and staring up at Ike. 

“Did I ever tell you that you look the prettiest in the winter?” the blue-haired warrior mused, hand cupping his lover’s flushed face. 

“You say for all the seasons every time we climb that hill, Ike,” Soren rolled his eyes, a small smile still lingering on his face. “But I never get tired of hearing it.” 


End file.
